


Yesterday

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Bartender AU, Bartender Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2248521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yesterday, Castiel Novak would have told you that he was where he wanted to be. </p>
<p>Of course, yesterday he wasn’t crying his eyes out to some bartender, consuming drink after ill-advised drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yesterday

Yesterday, Castiel Novak would have told you that he was where he wanted to be. CEO of Milton Industries, well off (read: rich), with a large penthouse apartment, three cars and a somewhat malicious cat named Meg. He would have said he was satisfied with his personal life, got on well with his clients and wasn’t the second top earning man in California for nothing.

 

Of course, yesterday he wasn’t crying his eyes out to some bartender, consuming drink after ill-advised drink.

 

“I dunno, man,” said the light-haired bartender. “Do what you gotta do to make you happy, y’know? I followed my kid brother here from Kansas so he could go to Stanford, and look at me. I’m swiping counters, but I’m happy.” To punctuate his point, he used a somewhat grubby cloth to wipe where Castiel’s empty glass had just been.

 

“Where’s my glass?” asked Castiel, bleary-eyed. “Where did it go? I hope it’s happy. Maybe it left to get married?”

 

The bartender laughed. “Man, you are _smashed_. Yeah, I’m cutting you off. Your glass is fine. It is, in fact, about to get washed. If it’s any consolation.” He gestured vaguely off to the side into the window where the kitchen was, and there, lo and behold, was Castiel’s glass, waiting to be washed just as the bartender had said.

 

“Oh,” said Castiel, debating for a minute about lying his head down on the counter. He was tired, but perhaps it wasn’t decorous? What was the etiquette in bars, anyway? He tracked the bartender’s movements with his eyes, watching him serve other people, as apparently Castiel wouldn’t be allowed any more of the nice fruity stuff. He didn’t get a chance to ask him about bar etiquette, though.

 

On second thoughts, he set his head down on his arms. It was time for a nap, he felt.

 

He remembered vaguely asking the bartender earlier what to do when you liked what you were doing but you didn’t, and you liked your house but you didn’t, and you like your cars but you didn’t. When, in fact, the only thing you liked for sure was your one-eared cat with a penchant for getting into fights it couldn’t win, and clawing people’s legs until the patted her. He couldn’t remember if he’d gotten an answer, or if the conversation was a figment of his imagination.

 

The bartender was back, and looking quietly concerned about his state of inebriation. “You OK, man?” he asked. Castiel decided he quite like the look of his lips moving. He wondered if his own lips looked the same.

 

“Dude, you can’t sleep here,” said the man, so Castiel shook himself awake and peered at him suspiciously.

 

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Dean,” replied the man, making shooing motions at his arms. “Up. You gotta get up, we’re near closing an’ I want to get home and sleep.”

 

“Deeeaaan,” slurred Castiel. ”’S a nice name.”

 

“Thanks.” Dean said, hefting Castiel’s arm over his head. “What’s yours?”

 

“Cast- Casti- Cas,” he said, giving up.

 

“That’s cool, Cas,” said Dean, a rather put-upon smile on his face. “And where do you live?”

 

Cas squinted at him again, like he was trying to get him address because he wanted to rob it or something, but _Dean_ had been a nice bartender and he couldn’t imagine him doing that. He got his wallet out, fumbling for a bit before he pulled a business card on it that had his address on it. “That one,” he said proudly. “That’s where I live.”

 

“Great,” said the man, and then whistled piercingly, rather like the steam train Castiel had once been on for a school trip when he was a sophomore. A yellow cab car was hailed and Castiel pushed firmly onto it’s seat.

 

“Wait,” said Castiel through the blurring that his eyes were doing. “What’s your- can I have your- um. Ringy thing.”

 

The man laughed genuinely this time. He grabbed a pen from the taxi driver, scribbled something down, and pushed it into his hands. “Here you go,” he winked.

 

“Thanks,” Cas managed to say before the taxi whisked him away.

 

~o~

 

The next morning Castiel woke up with an angry looking cat sleeping on his stomach, a pounding headache, and the vague memory of green eyes and a beautiful smile. Groaning, he reached out to rub at his eyes, put as he made a fist something crinkled in his grip. Frowning, he looked down at his hand to discover his own business card, with writing that was not his own on the back.

 

_Dean_ , it said. _021345836._

Smiling, Castiel reached for his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this is late i had a thing last night and by the time i got home i could barely keep my eyes open, let alone write. i'll probably write the next one in the next hour maybe? and post it when before i go to sleep.
> 
> Prompt: Bartender Au
> 
> also, i have no idea what phone numbers look like in other countries. hopefully still like this?


End file.
